Savages
by get-it-on65
Summary: The rest of the savage family begins to gang up on Sam Savage in a way he could never imagine. What happens when the savage family become real savages?
1. chapter one

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Disclaimer: I do not own 'Complete Savages', nor do I own the characters, however given the rights of a fanfictionnaire I can willingly do whatever I want to them in my imagination… and onscreen (computer screen).

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Chapter one.

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After a few hours of wandering around the isolated old park just a few roads from where he lived Sam made his way home. His distressed state, the after effects of a very painful break up between him and Angela. She wanted something he could never give her; himself. Deep down there'd always be a part of him buried with his mother, a part of him that died long ago, and he could never give it to anyone because he wasn't even sure it was there anymore. Or maybe it was just the guy he'd seen her with weeks before the climax of their long term suffering relationship, maybe she just couldn't stand to be with a guy as pathetic as he was…

"Hey Dad, you know if I got any post today?" he asks morbidly as he enters the house.

"Oh yeah." Nick mumbles, then becoming distracted by the super bowl.

"So…?" Sam says.

"What?"

"Where is it?"

"Erm…" he becomes distracted once again.

Frustrated, Sam walks in front of the TV.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

"Making you listen to me for once, now please tell me where my post is!" he almost shouts.

Nick points towards the kitchen. "Now get out of the way…"

Sam follows the direction in which Nick pointed in, and then standing in the centre of the kitchen glances around for his post. He looks on the kitchen work top, he looks in the bin, he looks down on the floor… but no paper, no letters, no parcels. He then decides (as not to disturb his dad further) to check the cupboards and the drawers as well, but still, nothing.

"Dad…" he shouts into the living room.

No reply comes.

"Dad!" he repeats.

This time there was, "Talk to me after the super bowl, Christ don't be so selfish…"

He decides to give it up and go to bed, it didn't matter too much anyhow, he was feeling too depressed for it to mean anything to him. A moment before he exits the downstairs part of the house Kyle comes running in, a crumpled up attempt at an airplane model in his hands.

"Oops" he states as he runs into Sam.

"Oops indeed, Kyle I paid fifty bucks for this, that's hours of hard work - down the drain. It was the only thing left I was looking forwards to… a model of the original fighter planes used during the Second World War… and you've ruined it."

"Big deal, the wars over why'd this thing be so important to you anyway, it sucks" he replies arrogantly.

"So that's it. You're not even going to apologise?" Sam says, tears forming in his eyes, this was one of the worst days of his life, his girlfriend dumps him, his father doesn't give a shit, and now his little brother breaks his things and doesn't even care about him enough to apologise for it…

"Sam? Are you crying? My god you are… you're such a baby."

This just makes the strain on the back of his eyes even worsen and the water banks are about to burst.

"Grow up." He says forcing out his words.

"No…" Kyle replies, thinking himself a big man, he shoves Sam backwards until he hits the kitchen worktop. "…You grow up." He was enjoying every moment of feeling bigger than his 'big' brother, but Sam would soon shut him up.

Sam lowers his head in shame, and then a moment later without warning his fist shoots up and smacks Kyle right across the face. Kyle falls back onto the floor, and begins to cry.

"Who's the baby now?" Sam spits as he heads out of the kitchen and makes his way upstairs to his bedroom.

He throws himself on the bed sighing, and wipes at his eyes, 'I can't cry, I can't cry…' he tells himself over and over again. He isn't the violent one, they are. He's the kid that does everything right. Kyle deserves what he got, being so heartless and all, but being the soft old soul Sam is he still feels bad about what he's done. Minutes later he hears loud thuds coming up the stairs, followed by a pounding on his door.

"Who is it?" he asks, his voice barely audible.

The door swings open with a crash and there stands Jack, Dad, and Kyle with dad holding onto his shoulders, blood smears across his face, and yet he has the same sadistic smile upon his face that he'd been forming before the fight.

"Who is it? Who do you think it would be? Hey!" Nick lunges forward and grabs hold of Sam's shirt from behind him, pushing him forwards toward Kyle. "I'll teach you to beat up your little brother like that…"

"But dad…" Sam began.

"I DON'T wanna hear it."

So Sam shuts up like he always does, and he does as he is told like he always does. After all he deserves to be punished for his crime, doesn't he? It's only right, isn't it?

"Stand up."

So Sam stands.

"Now, I want you to tell make me understand what on earth possessed you, practically an adult… to beat up your pre teen little brother. Go on. Explain it to me. I'm all ears."

"Well… I've had a really bad day, Angela…" he pauses thinking that this is not the right time to bring up Angela.

"We had a fight, but then I came back and Kyle had broken my new Second World War plane that I'd spent like…"

"All this over a broken plane?" Nick interrupts, "Right. Here's what is going to happen, Kyle here, is going to punch you 5 times, where ever he likes. You know why?"

Sam nods, but Nick continues anyway.

"…Because that is equivalent to a fully grown man hitting him… Christ, all this over a stupid plane. Kids."

"It's not a stupid plane… what about your old basket ball, you went nuts when we lost it to Mrs. Riley's backyard and anyway Kyle was asking for it, he was trying to bully me… the other boys, they hit me all the time just because they're bored. Its what brothers do…"

"…Oh, it's what brothers do is it, well lets have Kyle do his job then, and we can all be off then."

Sam stands silent, and then he walks towards the door. Nick steps forwards pulling him back.

"Who said this was a choice?"

Sam stares into his angry aging face and then he looks down at the floor. "I can't deal with this right now, please Dad… Dad, please don't be a bastard…"

Nicks grip however unexpectedly becomes tighter until Sam winces with pain.

"You'll do what I tell you to, understand?" he says, his breath smelling somewhat of chips and alcohol. "Boys, Come 'ere, Don't you think Sam should take his punishment like a man?"

They all nod. A wariness Sam has never really felt before starts creeping over him and shivers travel down his spine - like a defence mechanism creating the hairs on the back of his neck and arms to stand on end. Before he knows it Nick and Jack are holding him tightly by the arms in front of Kyle. Kyle wipes the remainder blood from under his nose and clenches his fists. It's almost as if he's been waiting for this his whole life. Sam doesn't struggle, he can't be bothered, he'd just let Kyle get his way and when it's over he'd go to bed, safe and a sound. He couldn't be bothered trying to escape because he couldn't stop thinking about how his family could do this to him. He couldn't stop thinking about how they cared so little about him that they'd let someone beat the shit out of him – and that someone is his own brother.

"One" Kyle states before landing a punch to Sam's kneecap, causing him to call out in pain.

He struggles to stay on his feet for a moment, and fights back the pricks of tears stinging his eyeballs.

"Two" This time he hesitated deciding on the best method to inflict the most pain on Sam.

"Hurry up Kyle, we're missing the Superbowl…"

"Two" he repeats and then kneels and hits Sam in both shins with two fists causing his legs to give way. For a few seconds he's on the floor and then… he's being dragged up to eye level again.

"Three" this time Kyle lifted Sam's face up with on hand and then brought the other in a clenched fist down on the side of his face creating a collision of such force that even Kyle shook his hand in pain. Sam's face stung, but he lifted his head soundless nonetheless. "Please…" Sam whimpers unable to look any of them in the eyes.

"Four" Kyle states hitting Sam in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of him. Struggling to breathe for the next few moments, Sam doesn't even see the last attack heading in the direction of his private area. Kyle's foot collides with this area so hard that Jack and Nick have to use all their strength to keep Sam on his feet. The tears finally fall like rain drops, and the pain is unbearable. However Sam does not moan about how they'd said five 'punches' and no mention of 'kicks', he doesn't even make a sound as the tears fall silently. But Kyle just stands there, observing his discomfort, and is on the verge of laughter.

Nick and Jack drop Sam to the floor unsympathetically and run out of the room to catch the rest of their Superbowl programme. Sam lies there, confused and sniffing. For a moment he thinks he is alone. Being so worn out and tired he doesn't bother to open his eyes until he hears the creaking of floorboards, and then a foot, which soon turns into a fast blur as it makes contact with his face.

"Don't you ever lay a finger on me again fag, no wonder Angela left you, you're such a freak.. Yeah I know, I can see in your eyes. You're all alone again and you know it. You think dad will give you any kind of comfort - yeah right. I own them and now I own you… you do anything I don't like and you know what'll happen…" On his last threat Kyle lays one last kick in between Sam's legs and then leaves. The laughter is finally evident in the soon to be eerily silent room.

Sam finally looks up, his whole body aching. He can feel the blood flowing from a swollen cut in his mouth, and his nose begins to let loose its warm red liquid. He drags himself over to his bed, and using what little strength he has left lifts himself onto it. As he curls up on the bed trying to drag the thin sheet over his bruised body he's too shaky to pull it over himself, and after some long hours of crying and running out of tears he falls asleep to the sounds of cheering males and fuzzy voices of Superbowl commentary.

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So, any thought's people?

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	2. chapter two

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Disclaimer: I do not own 'Complete Savages', nor do I own the characters, however given the rights of a fanfictionnaire I can willingly do whatever I want to them in my imagination… and onscreen (computer screen).

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Chapter Two.

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"Wake up sleepy head…"

Sam hears the voice but he doesn't want to obey it, so he responds with a small groan and refuses to open his eyes.

"Look… I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday… I woke up this morning and I felt so bad about it, we didn't want to hurt you like this, we just, wanted to give you a bit of your own medicine. It was a stupid thing to do son, and if I could take it back I would…"

Sam finally forces his eyes open and looks up at his dad. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, looking round at where he lies. Sam feels as though a great weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. 'Thank god he doesn't hate me' he thinks to himself. 'but wait, that doesn't make up for what he did to me… don't be such a baby…'

"Thanks dad…" he says, not sure of how to handle the situation.

"But that doesn't mean it was okay for you to hurt your brother like that, you know that right?"

Sam nods. "I didn't mean to, its just… oh god dad, Angela broke up with me…and I was so upset and then the whole thing with the plane, and he wouldn't apologise, and so I got upset…"

"And you hit him… because he wouldn't apologise?"

"No." Sam argues meekly shaking his head. "I hit him because he was treating me horribly, because he pushed me, and tried to bully me…"

"Oh not this Sam…"

"What?" he asks bewildered.

"Kyle's already told us about your little plan to turn things round on him, make him out to be a bully, when we know all this has been going on for weeks now. I really didn't believe it because I expected more from you, Sam Savage, such a nice kid, well now I see I was wrong."

"But dad…" Sam pleads.

"'But dad' nothing. I won't listen to you trying to turn me on your brother anymore…" Nick said rising from the bed. "Make yourself useful and go get us some milk from the store…"

"But dad, I didn't… my legs ache so mu…" he tries again.

"What did I say about the 'but dad's'?"

"Nothing." Sam replies timidly.

"No, I told you 'no more 'but dad''. Didn't I? Hey!" Nick responds agitatedly.

Getting the wrong end of the stick, he drags Sam to his feet and pushes him towards the bedroom doorway, and losing his balance Sam falls to the floor.

"I meant that dad… you, you… you said 'But dad, nothing' remember?" Sam stumbles on his words, his voice somewhat squeaking because of the lump forming in his throat. He knows his dad hadn't meant for him to end up on the floor, but he still feels an scarily empty feeling form in the pit of his stomach.

Nick shakes his head, and then answers. "Well I'm sorry then. Now c'mon get yourself up and down to the shops for that milk, and you can start cleaning up the mess you started weeks ago with Kyle."

With that Nick leaves, stepping over Sam, who still sat with his back to the wall, sighs as he is left alone once more. He really misses Angela; she'd been the only person in his life he could talk to… Everyone else either didn't care, or were forced to care. It seems to him that it's just that they don't care now. He lets go of the depressing thoughts that invade his mind and lifts himself from the ground. His legs ache painfully with each step, and the side of his face throbs, as well as the major headache he had first groaned because of. He doesn't even want to think about what he'd 'supposedly' done to Kyle.

He begins to undress slowly, letting his sore muscles loosen. He'd just pulled on a pair of clean jeans and was about to pull his shirt on when he feels eyes burning into his back. He turns quickly, which didn't do much for his headache and the world seems to blur and spin for a moment.

"We know about Kyle…"

Sam sighs. Why does Kyle suddenly have it in for him so much? When the images in front of him become clearer he soon finds it's Chris standing in front of him.

"Dude how could you do that to him, he's your brother man?"

"I lost control… I didn't mean to…" Sam begins.

"So its true, its all true." Chris says, disbelief in his voice.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Sam asks, confused by his reaction.

Chris had hit Kyle many times, and vice versa, why should they all be so shocked at this one time Sam hits him? Oh that's right, it's okay for them, but Sam isn't part of they're group.

"This isn't fair, why are you guys treating me so badly for something I've seen you do many times before?"

"We've never done what you've done man" he pauses for a second, "never."

"You liars…you've done it so many times, and you do it like its for some kind of entertainment… oh you know what, just, just go away. Leave me alone."

"You're sick. I can't believe dad's just letting you get away with this…" Chris begins.

"Did you not here me?" Sam says, getting frustrated and confused. "Leave me alone…"

He is interrupted by a punch to the face. "That's for Kyle man, and you better stay out of our way… none of us want you here, you're dirt, dirt." Chris spits, almost shouting.

Stabilising himself against a pair of drawers, Sam can feel the lump in his throat rising once more. Chris leaves, and Sam tries to steady his breathing, and keep himself from crying again. He's just so confused and scared at the same time. Nothing makes sense – it's like he'd woken up in some kind of hell.

His face aches further, and he lets his arms drop to his sides thinking for a moment. He doesn't even want to go outside, let alone go to the shops. The thought of running into Angela is too painful. But he finishes dressing himself and makes his way downstairs nonetheless.

"Took your time, didn't you?" Dad says as he approaches the front door.

"I had to redress" he replies, and then he opens and closes the door behind him.

It's cold out, only a month to go 'til Christmas, which just depresses him even more because he realises this isn't going to be the best of Christmases if Kyle keeps up this torture of him.

When he reaches the shop, the queue of customers stare as he passes by them, his beaten appearance comes to quite a shock to these quiet folk, who come by every Saturday morning to get their usual supermarket goods. He walks down the aisles aimlessly until he comes to find the milk he'd been asked to buy. He picks up the carton and holds it in his hands for a few seconds, staring at it like he's waiting for something, when really he just can't get his head around what's going on in his life so he ends up just, staring and confused, and all sorts of shit he never thought he could feel.

"You alright honey?"

Sam looks up and turns to the source of the voice. The woman to the side of him smiles, and repeats her question softly.

"Are you alright?"

Sam nods; though it is very evident he is lying. The woman forces another smile sincerely, and comments: "Aren't you cold out there with just that on, its real cold out there." She sounds like she's from Kansas.

Sam smiles too. The woman has long dark hair and though she has dark eyes they were probably the kindest eyes he'd seen in a long time. He needs that, for someone to be kind to him, even if just for a few moments. She looks mixed race, a light tone to her skin, somewhat in her late forties and he notices her fingernails are all bitten down and bleedy looking, but he just smiled at it. He has a habit of doing that a lot lately too.

"Well, I'll leave you to get on with your shopping" She carries on walking down the aisle in the opposite direction.

"Thanks" Sam calls after her, and she turns and waves at him somewhat before turning out of his sight.

His smile didn't really fade until he stepped outside – back into the cold, and the remembrance of his experiences from earlier that day. He can't help the morbid expression that suddenly takes over his face, and the hollow emptiness that begins to ache in his chest… and then the oddest thing happens; it begins to snow. Only tiny clods, which will probably linger in the air, and not have enough time to create a layer upon the ground, but still, it's… different.

When Sam reaches his house, he knocks on the door having forgotten his keys. At first no one answers, and he begins to knock again, but after another 10 seconds or so the door swings open. It's Kyle.

"Oh. Its YOU." He states. "Dad said you better start looking for another place to live or else you'll be on the streets…"

"What!" Sam says in shock.

"Ha" Kyle sniggers, "You fell for it."

Sam rolls his eyes and then walks into the house, trying to shake off the feeling of utter sickness and fear rolled into one. Kyle takes the milk and goes into the kitchen. Sam stands outside the door, resting against the wall.

"Sam told me to bring you the milk…"

Sam's ears prick up. 'No I didn't.'

"What's wrong Kyle? You look upset."

'Huh?'

"It's nothing…"

"Kyle?" dad repeats.

"I, I went after Sam to the supermarket" he begins, "Sam… he said its all my fault he's being treated badly, that he should kill me for what I've done. I said I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him…" Kyle is actually pretty good at putting on the water works.

'Unbelievable' Sam thinks to himself. How can they buy into this?

"SAM!" he hears his name being yelled and appears in the kitchen doorway.

Not again.

"Come here Sam." Nick says, anger evident in his voice.

He hesitates, shaking his head and then he turns into the kitchen. Uncle Jimmy is there too; he has this disapproving look on his face… 'Oh no… they've got uncle Jimmy as well' Sam thinks to himself. Nick stands and heads in his direction – he sinks in against the wall afraid and slides to the ground.

"I, I never did anything" he says, "He's lying, he didn't come anywhere near the supermarket, I forgot my keys. He, he opened the door for me just now…" his voice begins to tremble. "Please, believe me…why wont anyone listen to me?"

Uncle Jimmy has an unsure look on his face, as though he doesn't know what to do.

"I knew he'd do all this again – I thought no one would believe me because of it… he's so good at lying…" Kyle says as false tears spring to his eyes. 'How did he get so good at acting?'

Nick grabs the collar of Sam's shirt. "That bull wont work with me son."

"What b… bull, it works for Kyle and I'm the one telling the tru…" his words are stopped by a smack to the face and yet it wasn't from dad, it was from uncle Jimmy.

"You totally abused your brothers trust Sam, I don't think your father even wants you in his house." He says, a blank, somewhat disturbed look plastered all over his once confused face.

Sam let's loose the tears he's been holding back. He has no clue what they are all talking about, and they just won't listen to him, so he positions himself on the floor once more, and putting his head in his arms he cries. It's now around lunchtime, and his stomach rumbles ferociously. He can't even remember the last thing he'd eaten, maybe it was a waffle for breakfast the day before, however he is too dizzy and upset to concentrate on such trivial a memory.

He hears the shuffling of feet, but still does not glance up. Then as the last of the mix of feet pass by him, he feels his body tremble with hits, one from each perpetrator. He doesn't know who it is, but he doesn't dare look up. Sometimes he wishes he wasn't such a wimp, that he could just bring himself to stand against them all. He can't see Kyle's face but he can bet his life on it that he is enjoying every moment of this.

He sniffs from within his shell, and stops his pitiful crying. Doesn't anyone in his family trust him? Doesn't anyone doubt whatever ridiculous story Kyle has come up with… 'Why? Why? Why?' It's all he can think about, and it just makes his head hurt even more.

Suddenly he is taken over by such a rage, and yet he thinks to act on that rage may just cause his family to doubt him even more and to conclude that Kyle is right. So he tries not to scream profanities or kick out, but instead he lets his fist collide with the floor, his knuckles cracking in the process. He cries out in his mind that damn word again, but in reality the sound he makes comes out more like a moan. Crawling to the nearest chair, he parks himself in its seat and leans his head against the wall, a torn expression in his reddened eyes.

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So here we are again, another night, another chapter. You like? Dislike? Well I know its a lil melodramaticised... ah well, trials and very painful tribulations of life...

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	3. chapter three

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Disclaimer: I do not own 'Complete Savages', nor do I own the characters, however given the rights of a fanfictionnaire I can willingly do whatever I want to them in my imagination… and onscreen (computer screen).

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**Chapter Three. **

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"Sam!"

Sam wakes up with a start… he'd slept on the couch and had seemed to roll onto the floor in the night. He hadn't been bothered to get back up there so he'd just fallen asleep there.

"Sam…" its Nick.

Sam looks up at his father squinting, as he hovers over him.

"Sam, we're going out as a family – can you look after the dog?"

Sam's hurt expression is clearly evident on his face, but he brushes it off and nods meekly.

"Good then. Oh and stop by the shop again and grab some bacon, we've run out…"

He nods again.

Nick heads into the hallway to join the others.

"Why isn't Sam coming dad?" TJ asks with a puzzled look on his face.

"Because he doesn't want to" Nick tells him.

Obviously TJ hadn't been fed the lies yet, and that gave Sam little comfort as he knew Kyle would soon put an end to that. Sam lifts himself up off of the ground. He stumbles over to the door and whispers to TJ before he closes the door.

"TJ?" he questions, making sure he isn't in on it all.

"What is it Sam?" he says innocently.

"TJ, I had no say in this, the family, everyone is ignoring me, and its all because of something Kyle has made up. He's fed them lies TJ, said that I've done something terrible to him…"

"Saying you'd done what?"

"That's the thing - I don't know what I'm supposed to have done"

"Then how'd you know you haven't done it?"

"Because I never do anything bad, never mind terrible and I'd never hurt you guys… but he's told them something really bad, so bad TJ they beat me up... look…"

Sam lifts his t-shirt up and his body is decorated in bluish purple bruises. Sam's eyes are wet again.

TJ's expression is one of shock.

"HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Jack shouts from a few metres away, they'd all gotten in the car and realised TJ wasn't there and now they are all standing around the door with very angry expressions on their faces.

Sam lets his shirt drop down and gulps. "Nothing."

TJ is very confused and refuses to move until Nick grabs his arm, "Come on son" he says softly in contrast with the tone of voice he used with Sam before.

"Don't believe KYLE…" Sam shouts to TJ as he is led away.

A blow to the stomach by Jack cuts him off. He leans over coughing and grasping his stomach while Jack kicks him to the ground.

"Stay away from him you PERVERT!" Jack says as he kicks him in the chest.

Sam gasps. What did Jack just call him? How could Kyle lie about such a horrible act? Many questions raced through Sam's mind as he lay there, confusing to the point of almost disbelieving Jack had said what he'd said.

"Jack, why…" he coughs, "…why are you… calling me that…"

"Don't play dumb with me – Kyle described what you did to him… in detail, you dirty son of a…"

"Jack!" Nick calls from the car. "Don't even bother wasting your energy on the sack of crap. Come on."

"He's trying to act all innocent again!" Jack replies, anger pulsing through his veins.

"Look we'll sort this out later okay?"

'Sort him out' he all Sam heard, his head spinning.

Jack nods, and then as he leaves he spits at Sam – it lands on his arm, and he wipes it off on the grass. He doesn't move until he hears the engine of the car fade in the distance and then he drags himself painfully into a sitting position. He lays his head resting on his hands.

"Pervert" he says aloud. "How could any of them believe that… how could Kyle be this evil…" he begins to cry again, unsure of how to handle his emotions. He aches even more than before now, and he's getting sick of being everyone's punching bag, even if they do think he's done something so terrible.

"Hey, you" Sam sniffs and feels the prod of a walking stick - he flinches away at the touch of the stick and looks up frightened, only to find old lady Riley standing before him. He is unsure about her – Kyle could have told her lies too.

"What's wrong with you Sam?" she'd never used his name before.

He doesn't answer. He can't. He's too messed up to answer… and so he bursts out crying again. He a feels warm liquid begin to sneak out of his nose once more as he rubs at his eyes, embarrassed.

"Oh, you poor thing you. This is serious isn't it?"

Sam nods as he feels old lady Riley's hand on his shoulder. She isn't strong enough to help him up, but she tries to guide him up. Sam lifts himself up from the ground, his hands are scraped and his face is smeared with blood.

"No one believes me" he whimpers as she rests her hand on his arm while they walk towards her house.

"I know, it's alright, you can tell me what's wrong" Mrs Riley tells Sam.

This is a very alien reaction to Sam, as in the history of Mrs Riley living next door to him the only time she was ever nice to them was the time him and the others had supposedly 'saved her life' and that didn't seem real… this seemed real, but he was still afraid she was going to turn around and call him that awful word. Why would Kyle say such things? He wasn't going to get this thought out of his mind.

They reach her front door, which is already open, and she guides him inside and tells him to sit down on her couch.

"Would you like a mug of hot chocolate?" she asks sincerely.

"Yes, please" Sam nods forcing a small smile to cross his lips, "Mrs. Riley?"

"Yes?" she replies looking down at Sam, in his position on the couch.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Old lady Riley smiles, "Because you need it, because you deserve it… I'll get you a tissue" she says lastly, a somewhat torn expression in her eyes as she looks over his injuries.

"Who did this to you?" she asks from the kitchen.

"Erm, my brother"

"A fight that got out hand…"

"Not really…"

"Oh well do you want to tell me about it?" she replies as she enters the living room once more with a few pieces of tissue gripped in her hand.

She hands him the tissue. "The kettles on"

"Thank you very much"

"You know you were always my favourite of your brothers… I know your father doesn't really appreciate your good nature, but I do"

"Thanks Mrs Riley, you don't know how much I needed that"

Maybe the old woman isn't as crazy as she seems.

"Your don't have to tell me if you don't want to. We can just sit here."

"I'd like that" he almost whispers.

It doesn't seem right to be discussing such matters like this with old lady Riley, so he just sits there in the comfort of her home, the smell of hot chocolate soon filling the air as she finishes up in the kitchen.

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Sorry about the slight months long delay – I've been extremely busy, but I feel like I'm getting back into fan fiction writing again so I'll try and write the next instalment soon. Take care all, cesca, x

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	4. chapter four

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Disclaimer: I do not own 'Complete Savages', nor do I own the characters, however given the rights of a fanfictionnaire I can willingly do whatever I want to them in my imagination… and onscreen (computer screen).

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Chapter Four.

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Sam glances around the living room with glazed eyes – the place is quite homely, with its quaint little fireplace, soft cushions and array of smiling faces. He doesn't like to look at them for too long though – it reminds him of his own family photos, of his mom.

"Here you go…" Mrs. Riley's voice echoes from the kitchen as her approaching footsteps reach the living room, and she enters.

Sam looks up at her friendly face and the mug of hot chocolate in her oven mitted hands. He almost lets out a small laugh but holds it in. It seems the perfect picture image of what a grandmother should be like. He suddenly wishes Mrs. Riley really was his grandmother – a thought he'd never thought would cross his mind.

"Oh, thank you very much" he says appreciatively.

"Always good to see a boy with manners.. How old are you now?"

"Ah, I'll be 17 in May" he replies taking a small sip of hot chocolate.

"Almost a man" she comments, sitting her oven mitts on the coffee table in front of them and sitting beside him.

Sam looks up at her and gives her a small shy glance, smiling thankfully. He drinks the hot chocolate fast – the mug hiding a lot of his face while he sips. On one of the family photos sitting on the small table beside the couch he notices a young couple. They look to be around the ages of twenty-five to thirty and are grinning gleefully at the camera. The woman has short blonde hair and the man brown wavy hair and they're both holding hands, while the woman had a stick of cotton candy in her other hand. Sam picks it up.

"That's Jacob – he was my husband…" Mrs. Riley says trailing off.

"Oh, I'm very sorry…" Sam says putting the photo down.

"Don't be. Its not like you killed him," she laughs somewhat.

Sam doesn't really know how to reply so he just sits there awkwardly.

"No one ever knows what to do when a stranger tells them a loved one died"

Sam smiled knowingly. Mrs. Riley looks at him amusedly. "But you're not a stranger." He added.

Mrs. Riley laughs again. Sam knows why she is laughing. He remembers laughing before, when he'd told friends his mother was dead, when he'd told Angela. They never knew what to do and they always said the same thing. It was this that made him laugh and yet he'd heard himself say practically the same thing moments before. No one ever learns. No one ever understands, but Mrs. Riley does.

"When mom died, I kept thinking… was it something I did? Was it a punishment from god? But I suppose in a way that might be a pretty selfish way of thinking…" Sam trails off.

"No, I don't think so… look how good you turned out even without her. I think she'd be really proud of you"

Sam holds back tears.

"Ya think?" he says, his voice straining.

"Of course. Those boys, your dad, they don't appreciate you. I can see though. I see you sometimes. When you cry alone, when you're drawing, or thinking to yourself, you sit outside sometimes because you feel like you don't fit in…" she pauses.

The tears are close to falling now. Sam sniffs and almost chokes on a cry he desperately holds in. Maybe he could tell her – maybe she would believe him and wouldn't judge him…

"…Its okay to cry Sam – its your god given right"

The sobs make their way out and the tears fall and he feels like an emotional wreck, wishing away the pain.

"..If… if I… tell you something… will, you, you promise to believe me" he sniffs, trying to the force the words out through sobs.

Mrs. Riley nods her head, "I promise Sam…"

"Have any… any of my family talked to you recently?" he asks her.

She shakes her head signifying a 'no'.

"They, well, they've all turned against me. Kyle…" he almost chokes on another sob and then holds them back to get the words out.

"…Kyle told them I did something bad to him, but I've never done anything bad to him, I hit him yesterday because he was pushing and shoving me and treating me horribly… it was like he wanted me to hit him… and now I don't know what he's told them but Jack.. he called me a.. a… a pervert today, and so he must have told them that I like did something awful to him... but I don't know why he would make something so horrible up about me.. why would he do that? They keep beating me up and I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done…Please believe me… please…" he cant hold the tears back any longer and he begins to cry again, burying his face in his hands and rubbing at his eyes.

Mrs. Riley watches him with a shocked expression her face and then after a few moments she speaks. "I do Sam, I do, I believe you…" she puts her arm around him and pulls him toward her as he cries into her shoulder.

"Oh god, please believe me…" he repeats despite her reply.

* * *

Sam had been asleep on Mrs. Riley's couch for what seemed like minutes but must have been hours when he heard loud knocking on her front door. He lifted his head with worry and then tried to sink further in to the comfort of the couch cushions. He listens as she goes to the door to see who it is.

Mrs. Riley makes her way down the small hallway and begins to unlock her door leaving one of the latches on. She opens it and peers out to see Nick standing there.

"Have you seen Sam?" he asks in a huff.

"I did, but he's gone now" she lies. "He was quite upset – I have a right mind to report you and your boys…" she begins.

"No. I have a right mind to report Sam, I can't believe I even raised such a sick little monster…"

Sam could hear all of this and he buried his head under a cushion so as to not be able to hear any more of it.

"Excuse me, but Sam is none of those things, he is a wonderful young man and he had told me how his 'supposed' little brother has made up lies about him. I'm afraid it is your other son you should be looking to for the monster, now if you don't mind I'd like you to get off my property." And with that she closes the door in his face.

As she closes the door she can hear Sam trying to hold back more tears in the living room and wonders why the world had to be so cruel to someone so pure and innocent.

* * *

"Sam, Sam its morning."

Sam stirs out of his sleep and yawns as he rises up, scratching his head.

"Thanks for letting me stay last night" he says smiling and yawning up at her at the same time.

"No problem" she says, "What are you doing today?"

He sighs. "I have to work today… which means I have to go home."

"But you're in danger there…" she says concerned for him.

"I know, but I need the job. Mrs. Riley… if its not too much to ask… nevermind…"

"What?" she asks curiously.

"No, its too much to ask of you."

"I'll decided on that, you just ask me"

"Man, I never thought things could change so much in a matter of two, three days…"

"What is it?" she says growing impatient.

"Can I stay with you, if I give you money got rent, I'll get another job… I'll pay for as much as I can?"

Mrs. Riley smiles kindly and reaches out to Sam wrapping her arms around him as if he were a magnet she were pulled towards. "Yes Sam. You can stay with me… it's a little short notice, but you can stay with me"

"Maybe they'll realise Kyle was lying soon enough… maybe… I hope so"

"I hope so too, but what they've done to you is still terrible – it just goes to show people will believe anything if its serious enough…"

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So, here's chapter 4. What do you think? A little too sob story, or what? R & R please. Take care, Cesca, x

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	5. chapter five

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**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Complete Savages', nor do I own the characters, however given the rights of a fanfictionnaire I can willingly do whatever I want to them in my imagination… and onscreen (computer screen).**

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Chapter Five.**

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Sam makes his way around the back of his house, making sure not to make any noises. He looks back at Old Lady Riley for a moment. She's smiling at him from her window. The one she used to grin at them from while holding one of their basket ball or their frisbe or something like that. She really doesn't seem like the same person. The trees hung over the fencing force the window, along with Mrs. Riley to dissapear behind them. He finds the patio doors somewhat open and slowly slides them open a little more so he can squeeze through into the house. He walks through into the kitchen and stands there a moment. The house is pretty quiet - there doesnt seem to be anyone around... then why was the back door open? Sam suddenly feels a little nautious and his nerves get the better of him. He turns back to leave, and feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Sammy..."

He hears Kyle's voice but he does not stop. He's almost at the door.

"SAM!" he hears his dads voice shout.

Someone jumps out at him from the living room and tries to grab at him. It's Jack. He swerves and turns, slipping on the carpet beneat him. He begins to run - fear taking over.

"Leave me alone!" he screams as he races through the house to the front door.

When he gets there Nick is standing between him and the front door.

"What are you doing?" he says trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Where have you been?" he asks calmly.

"I, I stayed at Angela's..." he says softly.

"Oh really, because we called there, and Angela said she hasn't seen you for at least two days"

"Okay... I was at Mrs. Riley's house. I just don't want you to be horrible to her or anything"

"Teaming up with the old bag hey?" he mutters, "Well if she really knew what you'd.."

"No!" Sam shouts, "She already knows the truth - that I didn't do anything to Kyle. He's the monster, for lying about such a serious thing, for putting all this shit on me... i can't believe you didn't even doubt whatever he's told you because you know I could never do anything to hurt him like that... you're all pathetic if you can't see through his lies..."

Sam is interrupted by a thump to the face. Nick stands over him as he now lies beneath him. The automatic tears spring to his eyes.

"See, you think you're in the right. How can you solve problems with violence? You're an awful father... even before this, you just ignored me... Mum would be ashamed of you. She'd believe me..."

A kick to the stomach stops his mumbles again, and he coughs.

"...Don't you dare bring your mother into this." Nick says stern.

"Listen to me, for once.. please, what proof have you got that i did anything to him? If you send him to a psychiatrist or a hospital then you'll see he's making it up..."

Sam watches Nick's face. He's thinking about what he's just said. Maybe he's made progress.

"Fine, I'll go to a psychiatrist and I'll tell them how you stuck it in me! I'll tell them how you made me promise not to tell anyone... well look, they believe me, not you, so there... fine then" Kyles interrupts, and then he begins to cry.

Sam watches with his mouth agape. How did Kyle know what to say to make them turn against him? Where did he get this idea from? He's lost Nick, and he puts his head in his hands. "He's lying. He's very good at it, but he's lying." he says, more confused than ever.

"I don't believe you." Nick says flatly. "And that's why we're sending you to live with you're uncle Tim.."

"What!" Sam blurts out in disbelief. "Uncle Tim...you can't... thats like thousands of miles from here... and you don't even like your brother, none of us have even met him.." Sam trails off his breathing becoming heavier.

"He won't like you then - but I told him the circumstances and he's agreed to take you in for however long..." he stops.

Sam becomes speechless. He stares at everyone around him. Once his brothers, once his father, now just a bunch of people who hate his guts... except for TJ. Where's TJ? There's Jack, Nick, Kyle and Chris, but no sign of TJ.

"Where's TJ?" is the first thing Sam can force out.

"Away from you" Nick spits.

Kyle begins to cry again.

"To do this to me... you obviously can't love me.." Sam says on the verge of tears himself.

Nick is silent and then a moment later he speaks.

"Get him out of my sight..." he turns to Chris and Jack.

He didn't love him - Sam knew right then he couldn't. He looks up at Chris and Jack with pleading eyes, but they take no notice as they haul him to his feet, digging their fingers into the flesh of his arms.

"Where are you taking me?" he asks, again trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Somewhere you can wait until Uncle Tim comes to take you to your new home..." Jack answers.

Sams heart races. He'd heard many stories about Uncle Tim. Of when his father and Jimmy were younger, and he'd constantly get in trouble for beating on them - once he heard he was even into torturing small animals. How can his father send him to a place he doesn't even know is safe? Or maybe that's the idea - a punishment.

"What about innocent until proven guilty" Sam mumbles as they drag him along.

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He'd been locked in the cellar for what seemed like days. Its all darkness and his stomach growls with hunger. Mrs. Riley had fed him a fry up breakfast this morning and yet he can hear it grumbling away. The dripping of a leaking pipe sounds every few seconds and after a while he begins to count the drips. It's very cold down in the cellar, and dressed in just a now tatty red shirt and a pair of muddied shorts he's been shivering like crazy for the last hour. He sighs.

"Mom..." he whispers, "Mom, please help me... please tell Dad to stop. I don't know how much more I can take... Mom, Mommy please" his voice becomes high pitched but he promises to himself that he wont cry again. He's almost a man - and all he's doing is crying all the time. "I love you Mom."

He suddenly hears the door being unlocked and then light sheds into the pitch black cellar.

"Get you're butt up here boy!" he hears a strange and unfamiliar voice call him.

He rises from the concrete ground and covers his eyes as he ascends up the staircase - the light too bright for his eyes to take straight away. As he reaches the top a hand reaches out and grabs the collar of his shirt almost choking him as they pull him along with them.

"You an' me, gonna be livin' together boy.." it must be uncle Tim.

Everyone else is gone, and Sam is being led out of the house by this strange man. He's a plumb middle aged man who seems to be balding, and he's wearing a pair of jeans that are way too tight for him, that only half his stomach sticks out, and his tight blue t-shirt sticks to his skin. His hands are huge, almost as big as Sams head. He wraps one around his head as he pushes him forwards

"Now, don't you try any funny business.. I'm watching you."

'Very reassuring...' Sam thinks to himself. "I really want to stay here. I have a job, and school..." he says, trying to bring together a reasonable argument.

Most reasonable an argument would have been to stress how scared he is of going with this man, but obviously this would not be an option in a one on one conversation with said man.

"Don't you worry. I'll get you a place in the local school. You're in High school now, aren't you? You can get two jobs if you want, I don't care as long as you pay your rent..." he finishes.

"But my neighbour, Old Lady Riley, I, I promised I'd stay with her, to keep her company. That's what I was doing when they put me in the cellar, I was getting my stuff to go stay there..."

"Were ya now?" he says, an amused smile on his face.

"Yeah.. if you could just..." he is cut off by a smack to the back of the head.

"Quit you're whining boy, I'm taking you back with me and thats that, I promised your father I would. Now if you don't shut up I might be forced to throw you in the boot - and its a long journey home." He laughs to himself as he finishes and suddenly he reminds Sam of someone... of someone he knows very well, of Kyle.

Sam becomes quiet, and the shock of everything that is happening finally hits him in a wave of fear and questions of what may come. He looks back at Mrs. Riley's house, she must be cooking or cleaning something or maybe reading because she isn't in the living room. He lowers his head as he gets into the back seat of Uncle Tim's Volkswagen and lies down, feeling the comfort of the back seat - the heat and the crying have made him suddenly very tired.

"I guess you must have inherited my genes then" he laughs.

Sam gulps from where he is lay as the car begins its journey home. Left with the questions of 'why couldn't he have made out of the house', or better still, 'why did he have to go back in the first place?' he does not speak, he just sighs, and tries to get some sleep. He might need it.

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Hey sorry about the freaky turn of events, but hey - it'll be the end of the story if Sam lives happily ever after with Mrs. Riley, I promise a happy ending though - if you can call it that.

**R & R if you can. Cesca, x p.s. visit my website www.mysterious-elephant.tk if you're interested in short films. I'm an aspiring film maker, and this is about me and my films, or up and coming films...**

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